Crowders and Winchesters
by Rellik 01011993
Summary: When Dean finds himself alone he reaches out to an old friend.


Dean cringed, not wanting to acknowledge what he was about to do. "Boyd, I need a place to hide out for a while. Your family has been holed up in these mountains for generations, and none of you have let the wards slip…" he frowned, looking away from his long-time friend. "There's nowhere else I can go that the war can't track me." he couldn't bring himself to look Boyd in the eye. He knew he was asking a lot, and putting him at risk, but he had nowhere else to go. If Boyd refused to take him, he'd be dead soon…again.

A gentle hand landed on his shoulder and Boyd waited until he looked up. "Of course you're welcome to my home, Dean. The debt owed to you by my kin is inconceivable, and yet you have never asked anything of us. Please, come on inside. I'm thinking that there are things you wish to discuss that would be better done over whiskey…" an understanding smile and a small tug brought the young hunter through the door.

Dean let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding as Boyd shut the door. "I'm sorry to bring trouble to your door, but I've got nowhere else I can go. Dad's not answering his phone, I've got no idea where he is, and Sammy…things with Sammy are tense."

Boyd was aware of Dean's loyalty to his father and his brother. For him to speak ill of them things had to be beyond bad. They had obviously done something terrible, let the young man down in some unspeakable manner, for him to admit as much as he had. Before he could lead Dean through to the kitchen, Ava came downstairs. He watched in amazement as Dean gave her a once-over and left it at that. He hadn't been checking her out though, just checking that she wasn't a threat. The last time he and Dean had seen each other Dean had been hitting on anyone with breasts.

The hunter ducked his head, keeping his eyes on the floor. "My apologies, ma'am, didn't mean to interrupt your home." He bit his lip, thinking, before he turned to Boyd. "You discuss it with her, _thoroughly_ , I'll be on the porch." He turned and left without another word. His shoulders tense and his body weary.

Ava lifted a brow, waiting for Boyd to fill her in. "Baby, he's…he's a friend, a good friend. I owe him my life many times over. Dean has never come to me for anything before, but he needs help now, help that I can give him. He's not a hard criminal, only petty crimes for survival, and he won't cause any trouble to us. Do you mind if he stays with us a while? He's in need of someone to do right by him for once…"

She could see the concern in Boyd's eyes, and the need to do right by the man he called Dean. And she had seen the young man's unwillingness to come between them. She had also seen how worn out he was. He needed a break from whatever it was the world had been throwing at him. "Of course he can stay with us Boyd. As long as he needs."

Boyd went to the cabinet that held alcohol, passed over the whiskey for the shine. This was going to need something strong. He grabbed two glasses and stared at Ava for a long moment. "We might be a while, baby, but I need you to stay in here. Getting him to talk is damn near impossible, he'll clam up quick if a stranger comes out…"

Dean flinched into readiness when he felt someone sit down beside him. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, and it took him a moment to remember where he was. A moment longer to realise who was next to him. "It's ok Dean, just me and a little shine." Boyd's voice was soft, careful not to startle him any more than he already had. Dean took the offered glass of moonshine and tipped it back, realising a moment later that Boyd was waiting for him to choke on it. "Well, an outsider who can handle Harlan shine, that's new." He filled Dean's glass again.

Dean shook his head with a sad chuckle. "This has nothing on the stuff that Bobby makes…used to make." He still couldn't get over the fact that Bobby was gone. He had always been there, no matter what Dean needed. And now he was gone.

Boyd took a moment to analyse what Dean had let slip, he didn't want to step on his toes and have him clamming up before he knew what was going on in the young Hunter's world. "Your Uncle Bobby? The man with the wrecking yard that's full of devil's traps?" he remembered Dean telling him about the place when they were younger. What sounded like something from a horror flick had apparently been the only place Dean got to be a kid.

Dean nodded. "Cremated him myself six months ago." His voice was tight with anger and his shoulders were tense. "Called Sam to let him know and he hung up on me before I could get a word in. Dad doesn't answer at all. Cas won't even tell me if Bobby went up or down."

Boyd fought back a curse. He could never understand how easily Dean's family dismissed him. Just because he could carry any load on his shoulders, didn't mean he should have to. They should have been standing right beside him, trying to help. And now he had lost the one man who didn't treat him like he was expendable. "I don't recall hearing of Cas before…"

Dean shook his head, finishing his second glass of shine before answering. "You wouldn't have, he's only been around for about a year. He pulled me out of hell." Boyd's eyes widened in surprise – from everything Dean had told him over the years, once you were in hell you were there to stay. And usually you had to do something to get there…dying was generally a thing on the check-list.

Dean sighed, seeing the gears ticking over in his friend's mind. "Sammy died…some kid severed his spinal cord with a bowie knife. So I made a deal with a cross-roads demon to bring him back. They gave me a year and dragged me down. Cas sprung me after…about four months. He's an angel, by the way. Dicks."

Boyd was at a loss for words, and it took a lot to get him to that stage. They sat in silence, Dean allowing him time to absorb the information and form the questions he would no doubt want to ask. To Dean's surprise, his friend didn't start out on the obvious points – hell, angels, bringing Sam back from the dead. No, he started out on the one part no one else had noticed. "You don't seem too sure about the time-frame. Almost like you're just taking someone else's word for it…" he watched closely as Dean shrugged awkwardly.

"Probably because I am." Dean's voice was gruff and his emotions were strictly shut away. Boyd had never seen him this scared of his own mind before. He had always had a habit of shutting off his emotions, but he had never been this quick at it before. "It was forty years from my end; apparently time passes differently down there."

"So what you're telling me is that you martyred yourself to hellfire and damnation for your beloved brother, who you practically raised despite being just a child yourself. Now this brother won't even speak with you in his selfish attempt at living a normal life, even if it kills you. Your trip to hell now makes your immortal soul forty years older than it ought to be. The man who claims a fatherly bond with you is nowhere to be found when you need him most, despite the fact he's already less than successful in that role. The one person who has always been there for you, you had to cremate by yourself due to the selfishness of your blood family. And angels are dicks. Did I miss anything?"

Dean was silent for a moment before shaking his head. "Nope, that about covers it. Oh, there is the fact that the entire Hunting world thinks I'm going to turn demon now." At Boyd's blank look he took a deep breathe to calm his nerves. "Every demon was once human. You spend long enough in the pit, and you start to absorb everything in there. Can't be helped. Either I wasn't in there long enough, or my soul is different, because it feels like hellfire is the only thing holding me together anymore. I'm still on the FBI's most wanted list too, if that's a problem…"

It didn't surprise Boyd that Dean didn't react to hell the same way others did. His whole life had been an example of mistreatment and various degrees of torture. And that by the people he loved. Surely being tortured by demons couldn't hurt nearly as much as being tortured by your own flesh and blood.

Dean didn't want to keep anything from Boyd. If his friend was going to open his home to him, he was going to do it knowing all of the risks Dean brought with him. He wouldn't have any unexplained threats popping up in Boyd's life.

Boyd's charming grin appeared. "Well now Dean, you know me well enough to know that pissing off the authorities is one of my favourite pastimes. I wouldn't turn down a chance to do something to annoy the FBI…"

Dean nodded slowly, trying to figure out the best way to word his next concern. "Word has it that Raylin Givens has come back to Kentucky as a Marshall. Rumours are that he visits you rather frequently… Am I going to cause tension in your truce with him?" Dean remembered Raylin as fondly as he remembered Boyd. They had all been good friends for a short time when Dean had been forced to take up coal mining to feed and house Sammy for several months while their dad disappeared.

Boyd shook his head. "The truce between Raylin and I is a very strange phenomena, Dean. He shot me in the chest, but he didn't kill me. Swears he's going to do anything possible to get me into prison, but then he goes and turns his head when I do something…necessary. Besides that, I think if we gently mentioned what you did to Arlo before you left, he just might come around to our side on this particular subject." He paused a moment before continuing, not sure if Dean would want to hear what he was about to say. "We were all good friends at one point, and though we were sad to see you go, we were pleased as well. No one wants to watch their friends die of black lung, and that's exactly what would have happened had you stayed around."

Dean's laugh was strange, making Boyd watch him more closely. "No, black lung would have been such a bad way to die compared to hell hounds. I definitely made the better choice for quality of life."

Boyd was silent for a long time, trying to find the best way to frame his suggestion. He didn't want Dean dismissing the idea before he thought about it properly, and he would if it wasn't worded just right.

"Your knowledge of your world is rather extensive, is it not?" Dean nodded tightly, not sure where this was going. "And you've been hunting longer than most, so that knowledge was collected honestly. Not to mention 40 years in hell, I'm sure you learnt some interesting facts in that time. Dean, now that Bobby's gone, who do the Hunters turn to when they need information?"

The Hunter shrugged his shoulders. "Call each other I guess, there are a few people around that are sort of like Bobby, but they're nowhere near on the same playing field as he was." He stared at Boyd, wondering where he was taking this, but happy to leave him to it. The man generally talked a circle around a subject ten different ways before getting to the point, but it always gave Dean a lot of information in the process.

"Being the son Bobby never had, and being the only one who chose to stay in the life, I'm going to make the assumption that Bobby would have left everything to you…" he paused, waiting for Dean's nod to continue. "And I'm of the assumption that Bobby never wanted you to die on a Hunt. You've already Hunted longer than anyone else seeing as how you started at the wrong end of your life. Perhaps it's time to let the others Hunt while you provide them with much needed information. I know you try to make everyone think you're less than capable at research, but that's just an image you want them to see. Would Bobby want his library collecting dust? Or would he want someone providing that information to the Hunters?"

Dean glared into the darkness, his jaw clenched. As usual, Boyd's point was drawn out but valid. He had been arguing with himself the whole trip to Harlin – that he should keep Hunting rather than hiding behind books. But it was hard to ignore Bobby's wishes, even harder when Boyd set them out like he did.

He nodded slowly. "That's what Bobby wanted me to do. Didn't put it in as many words, cos he knew I could say no to him when he was alive… Can't disappoint him now that he's dead though. It's going to take some time, to wrap my mind around it." He took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair.

Boyd nodded, happy with the result. He knew he wasn't going to get an immediate agreement from his friend, but an agreement to think about it was enough. "In the meantime, you need some time to hide away. So, you'll stay here with Ava and me while you figure yourself out."

Dean blinked in surprise, he hadn't expected the woman to allow him to stay. He wasn't exactly known for bringing safety into a home. Death and horror seemed the only sure things to follow him these days. "Did you fully explain the situation to her Boyd?"

The Harlin con-man gave his friend the signature grin. "No, but Ava doesn't like to know details about some things. My work, and I'm assuming yours too, are things she doesn't like to know about. That way, when the law comes knocking at our door, she can claim ignorance on the important matters." He saw the worry flashing in tired green eyes and continued, hoping to make his friend rest easy. "She knows you live in a dangerous world, she can see that on a man clear as day, but she can also see that you don't _want_ to bring trouble to her door. She knows that you'll do anything to keep trouble from her door, like I do. You are welcome in our home, Dean Winchester, I would not have it any other way."


End file.
